


Rekindle

by eIiza



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bad at Lying, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, elams, elams!, it's mostly hamliza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eIiza/pseuds/eIiza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex shows up on Eliza's doorstep, a bloody mess. She wasn't prepared to see her crush on such short notice, but there's no helping it now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rekindle

**Author's Note:**

> what is editing...its 4 am i should really stop writing at night but ????? cant stop wont stop

Curled up on the couch with a book in her tiny apartment, Eliza startles when her phone suddenly goes off, buzzing against the hardwood of her coffee table.

**alex gsws319:** hey are you home right now

Eliza hasn’t heard from Alex for almost a month until now. He was her project partner last semester, and their situational friendship ended when the term did. Eliza briefly thinks back to their time together: his awkward shy smiles, her perpetual awareness of how close he would sit next to her, lingering gazes held for a couple seconds too long, the unexpected hug he sprung on her at getting their mark back, and then, in their last week together, when she had finally worked up the nerve to ask him out, meeting his boyfriend, John. They parted ways, and with that, she got over what feelings she had for him. It was easy without contact. She cautiously replies, 

**eliza:** yeah whats up?

**alex gsws319:** can i come in

Eliza considers this carefully. He wouldn’t be asking to come inside her home, nearly eleven at night, if he didn’t have a good reason. She quickly brushes away any thoughts of maybe he had a fight with his boyfriend, or maybe, quite possibly, they broke up and now he’s running back to her-

**eliza:** sure

That’s definitely not what happened. He probably didn’t ever have feelings for her. There’s no room for thoughts like that, only waiting and seeing what he wants. Soon enough, there’s a knock at the door. Before answering, she adjusts her shirt and flips all her hair behind her shoulders.

Alex is standing meekly in the hallway, and he’s a mess. His hair, normally tied in a low bun, has come loose and is hanging a lopsided ponytail. He’s grimy and sweaty, and an ugly purple and yellow bruise is blooming on his cheekbone. Any greeting Eliza has for Alex is quickly stolen away as she wordlessly ushers him into her place and gently shuts the door. 

Alex awkwardly hovers in the space between the kitchen and living room, before perching on the back of her couch. It’s only after watching him stagger in that she notices his pants are cut on the shins, and even more concerning, there’s huge gash on his right leg. His hands are caked with crimson and he looks more exhausted than she’s ever seen him.

He smiles nervously, his eyes still alight with the remnants of adrenaline. She’s lost for words.

“Hey,” he breaks the silence.

“Alex,” is all she can manage, her voice dripping with concern.

He puts his hands up in defense, “I know, I know, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, I just need to clean up before I can get anywhere, and you were close by, so…Help a guy out?” He flashes a bigger, crooked smile and any hope of maintaining any amount of emotional distance is lost.

“Of course, Alex, I’m not going to say no,” she steps towards him, examining his injuries, taking mental notes. His face is hot under her fingertips, but he’s relaxed as she gently turns his bruised cheekbone to the light and ghosts her hands over his discoloured arms. “Let’s go to the washroom.”

 

Eliza sits Alex down on the lid of the toilet and hands him a damp facecloth with the instructions, “Wipe your face.”

He pouts at her, “You mean you’re not going to do it for me?”

She rolls her eyes, “It’ll hurt a lot less if you do it.”

He scoffs, “This hurts my hands,” but gingerly scrubs at his face while she shuffles containers under the sink, searching for her first aid kit. “So, I have to ask, what the fuck did you do? You look terrible.”

“I, uh, you’re not going to like it,” he falters. “I got in a fight? You should see the other guy, though. Really.”

She whips her head up to give him an incredulous look. He startles and quickly shies away from it.

“ _ Alex _ -” she starts.

“I know, I know,” he cuts her off, “fights are not the way to solve problems and whatever, but you should have heard what this dude was saying. Really fucked up shit.”

“And  _ of course _ you couldn’t just keep your opinions to yourself, could you?”

“Hey, he swung first,” he protests.

“Mm hmm,” she acknowledges, finally pulling out a red plastic box decorated with a white plus out from under the sink. She starts rummaging through its contents, then stops to gesture at the sink when she notices he’s stopped wiping his face, “Rinse your hands.”

“But that’s going to hurt,” he whines.

“And what, getting beat up didn’t? You should have thought of that first.”

“You’re supposed to be nice to me, I’m hurt,” he mopes, swinging his legs to the side of the toilet and leaning his arms on the edge of the sink. He’s just able to reach the stream of water from where he’s sitting.

“I’ll help you when you’ve got the most of that off,” she adds softly, lining up the supplies she needs on the floor next her and closing the box. “Tell me about your fight.”

“Well he was spouting gross shit, and I was so angry, like, it was really horrible stuff. So I go up to him and give him a piece of my mind, and he doesn’t like that. He starts getting louder and it looks like he’s about to grab me so I pop him in the face.”

“Oh yeah? I thought he swung first,” Eliza smiles at the inconsistency, putting on gloves she ripped out of a small plastic bag.

“Well yeah, I thought he was going to get at me first so, y’know.”

“Ah, yes, violence, the cure-all,” she quips. Alex makes his best innocent face. Eliza rolls her eyes and adds, “Let me see your hand.”

Standing to lean over she sink, she takes each hand in turn and wipes away what blood is left under the flowing water. She’s focused on the task at hand, doing her best to forget that she has his hands in hers, that he’s watching her work, occasionally squinting with pain. She pushes away any connotations of intimacy, that they’re alone in her apartment at night, that there’s only a thin layer of latex keeping them from making real contact, that she could look over at him and he would look up at her in turn, almost certain that he wouldn’t look away for as long as she held the connection. But she doesn’t dare think of making any attempt, instead concentrating on cleaning the heels of his palms and the sides of his hands.

“Alex.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you not punch him with your knuckles?”

She waits, but he doesn’t answer, so she continues, “Because, they don’t look injured at all, but the rest of your hands are all scraped up.”

Again, no reply, so she looks up and he’s very pointedly looking away.

“Alex.”

“Uh huh?”

“What really happened?” she raises her eyebrows.

“I told you, I got in a fight.”

“You did not.”

“Uhhh, yes I-” he stops himself after finally turning back to see her face. “Okay, okay, I didn’t. You’re right, you win, you’re as brilliant as ever,” he resigns. “Happy?”

“Fuck, Alex, I was really worried,” she says, turning the tap off and returning his hands to him. She eyes the gash on his leg, “And I still am. Also I think you’re going to have to take your pants off...”

She feels her face get hot, realizing what she just said.

“Wow, Eliza, how forward of you,” Alex teases, not helping in any way.

“Shut up. If you want I can give you a towel or something to cover up.”

“I don’t actually care, but if that would make you more comfortable-” he’s cut off by a towel being shoved in his face. “Alright then.”

“Let me know when you’re ready,” she says, walking past him and closing the washroom door behind her.

She takes a deep breath, and all the feelings she’s been keeping at bay come rushing forward. Was he flirting with her, or does he not see her as a viable option at all? He’s sending so many mixed signals, or maybe they’re not signals at all and she’s reading way too much in to this. Eliza realizes she never did truly get over him, just pushed the feelings aside until they were forgotten. But now he’s back, something she didn’t anticipate so soon. He’s back and he’s going to leave again after tonight, so it’s best to just get through it and forget again. Which is going to be difficult, seeing as he’s in her washroom, and when she gets back in he’s going to be almost half naked-

“Ready!” he calls from behind the door.

I’m not, she thinks, letting herself back in.

He smiles up at her from his seat, towel neatly wrapped around his waist like a skirt, pants and socks tossed carelessly in the corner. He’s looking better already with his face cleaned up and significantly less blood on his hands. His cheekbone and arms are still bruised, but that doesn’t take away from how he’s looking up at her, his usual energetic demeanor lighting up his face again, for the first time tonight. Eliza ignores the way her breath wants to catch.

“Good, okay. I need your leg in the tub.”

He straddles the edge, and she sits in front of him, removable shower head in hand. She lets the water get lukewarm before washing the large but shallow gash and surrounding cuts on his leg.

“So what did you really do then?”

“What do you mean?” he smiles innocently at her.

“Alex,” she sighs.

“Okay, okay, it’s just embarrassing.”

“Don’t hype it up, just spit it out.”

“I uh...I, may have, in some form or other, made an error in- ahh!” he winces.

“Ooh sorry, I’ll be gentle,” she apologies, continuing her work.

“Thanks.”

Washing his wounds is methodical and suitably distracting. She doesn’t think about how close they are, how smooth his skin and voice are, or for how long she's had an excuse to touch him, and has been touching him. It’s just the flow of water, finding what can be washed away, and listening to his story. When he says nothing more, she prompts, “Go on, then.”

“I fell down some stairs in the park.”

Eliza bursts out laughing. Alex tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and he can’t help but break out a smile.

“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just, oh my god, Alex, you should have just said that from the beginning. I wouldn't have laughed then. Oh my god.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right,” she smiles at him, and spare her poor heart, he returns it with the biggest smile she’s seen from him tonight. She quickly returns her focus to his leg.

Finally done, she shuts the water off and adds, “I think it’s clean now, but it’s started bleeding again so just sit tight a bit longer and I’ll take care of that.”

“Thanks,” he reaches out to stop her from getting up, placing his hand on her arm. “Really, Eliza, thank you.”

His hand warm against her bare skin, she fights to remember how to breathe and replies, “Yeah, no, of course, Alex. It’s better you take care of it quick instead of heading home like that. You wouldn’t want to risk infection or anything. Especially with how far you live from here.”

He nods slowly, keeping her gaze, and he doesn’t remove his hand from her arm. She sits, waiting, not daring to break eye contact, not quite holding her breath. For a moment, she’s almost certain he’s leaning forward, grip on her arm tightening, but then it ends just as fast as it began, and he lets go. 

 

Eliza bandages what cuts she can, not worrying about the smaller scrapes, some already completely scabbed over. They’ve moved to her couch, a cup of water in Alex’s hands. He drinks about half then sets his cup on the table his feet are resting on, lays his head against the back of the couch, and closes his eyes. She sits perched on the corner, facing him, feet neatly tucked underneath her.

“Actually, Eliza I…” he trails off, squeezing his eyes tight.

Eliza’s heart picks up, not knowing what to expect. “Yeah?”

“I’ve missed you, actually.”

Oh. Oh shit. “Me too, actually,” she gently mocks him, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but he doesn’t take notice.

He opens his eyes, “Not to say that I fell down some stairs just to see you, ‘cause that fucking sucked. Just, uh… we should hang out more.”

“Yeah, I mean, I would love to,” she wants to add: but I really like you and I’m not sure if I can handle being around you without getting over these shit feelings first.

“That sounds like there’s a ‘but’ to that,” he asks. He wasn’t supposed to notice that. The universe must have taken pity on her in that moment, because his phone buzzes and after checking it he adds, “My boyfriend is outside. Can he come up?”

She answers in the affirmative, and when she opens the door to let him in, her first reaction is to slam it in his face. John is tall, probably over six feet, gentle green eyes, soft curly hair tied back into a ponytail, and freckles like you wouldn’t believe, all supported by a huge mass of muscle. That boy is firm. Instead of acting on impulse, she lets him in and is surprised when he says, “Oooooh, so  _ this _ is Eliza.”

Followed quickly by, “John,  _ shut up _ .”

Eliza glances over at Alex, whose face snaps from concern to a huge, nervous grin. There’s no way. This can’t be real. She pushes her luck, “Has Alex been talking about me?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” John replies from his seat on the coffee table, directly across from Alex, who is still on the couch. Eliza leans against the arm of the couch. “I thought he’d stop once you two finished classes together, but I see he’s wormed his way back into your apartment.”

“It’s not like I did this on purpose,” Alex looks betrayed.

“And yet here you are,” John winks at Eliza. She hopes neither of them can hear her heart pounding in her chest. Was Alex’s boyfriend flirting at her on Alex's behalf? Only one way to find out.

“It’s okay, I’ve- I’ve been thinking about you too,” she tells Alex, trailing off at the end a bit.

“You have?” hope is plastered on his face, his eyes huge and bright. Was this really happening? Eliza takes a breath. 

John nudges his foot and Alex blurts out “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He looks at John, “With us?” John shrugs. “With someone?”

Eliza says nothing for a beat. Alex is watching her, eyes wide with anticipation. John looks from Alex, to her, then back to Alex with something like satisfaction on his face. She gathers herself enough to manage, “Yes. Yes, yes to all of that. I would love to.” 

John pats a hand on Alex’s knee as he stares up at her, happiness plastered plain on his face. She releases all the tension she didn’t know she was keeping locked up. She has a date, two dates, with the boy she’s been crushing on for months and with his boyfriend, the guy that she thought had taken away any chance of her and Alex getting together. Instead, he’s the reason for it.

“Do you want it to start right now?” Alex grins. Eliza glances at the clock. It’s well past midnight, and she knows what Alex is implying. She was not prepared for any of the events that occurred in the past couple hours, and decides to finally takes control of what happens next.

“No, Alex, that would be a terrible first date. Go home.”

When Alex pouts, she turns to John instead and adds, “Please take him home.”

John grins, “You got it,” plucks Alex off the couch (“Hey!”) and tosses him over his shoulder. “See you later, Eliza,” from John and a quieter, “Bye, Eliza,” from Alex, and they’re out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> ft. John the blatantly honest (and therefore terrible) wingman. But I mean, it worked right?
> 
> comments and kudos sustain me! tell me all


End file.
